


Always Crowned, Never a King

by misura



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Community: avland, Gen, Post-Thor: The Dark World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Being king was really remarkably dull.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Crowned, Never a King

Being king was really remarkably dull.

It didn't help that he was rather terribly good at it, of course; decisions that would have kept Thor busy thinking for hours took him mere minutes - the big stuff, the sort that would have been good for sleepless nights and a foul temper if he'd been Thor only took him half a day at best.

The warm glow of satisfaction at finally getting what he deserved had worn off long ago, the moment he'd sat down on the throne, practically - the delight in getting it by way of trick had lasted a bit longer but that, too, was beginning to pall, because really, what good was a trick if you couldn't tell anyone that you'd pulled it off?

Only last week, he'd come across a couple of guards, talking about what a wonderfully wise decision 'Odin' had made that morning, regarding some insignificant conflict on some backwater planet or another - honestly, he'd already forgotten the details.

He'd ruthlessly squashed the moment's temptation to reveal himself right there and then, to step right in front of them and say something stupid like _'ha, fooled you, didn't I?'_.

Now, of course, he wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have given in. Things would have gotten rather messy, probably; some people were simply incapable of recognizing intelligent life unless it looked like someone they'd known and trusted for decades. There might have been a civil war, which would have been fine, more or less, if only he could have been sure that he'd have been able to respect (or even like) the people who'd have chosen his side.

Alternately, if the opposition could have come up with a better candidate, he reckoned he might have been okay with that - just chuck the whole thing, go back to being the black sheep of the family to whom everyone turned when they had a problem they couldn't solve by themselves.

Could have, would have, should have, and so on: story of his life, you might say.

As it was, he figured he was pretty much stuck with the job; nobody else was even remotely capable of doing it, and he'd apparently picked up a sense of responsibility while he wasn't looking, so that was that: he'd best resolve to a very boring life for the next couple of centuries or so, until Thor came to his senses and decided to come back and do the noble thing that was expected of him.

So, nothing to do about it, then - or so he figured until the Lady Sif came storming into the throne room, no muddy peasants or humiliated guards ( _'you got beaten up by a_ woman _?'_ ) in tow for once. Loki rose, prepared to greet her as Odin would, noting she hadn't yet knelt -

"Loki," she said, and he felt dizzy with the weightlessness of it, the relief.

He wanted to dance, to kiss her, to summon up a dragon especially for her to slay. (He'd always rather liked her, in a distant, 'pretty, but I'm not her type, so never mind' sort of way.)

Instead, very sensibly, if he did say so himself, he kept his guise and looked at her balefully, the way Odin had, before it had occurred to father dear that Thor might do worse. (Insult to injury: anyone who would even consider picking a human over Sif clearly didn't deserve her.)

She said, "I know it's you," and that did it, really; he was only very nearly immortal, after all.

He made sure he was smiling when he dropped the glamor. "And what, pray tell, do you plan to do with that knowledge?"

She hadn't expected the question - or possibly it had been the easy admission that had thrown her.

Still, she was a warrior; she'd snap out of it soon enough. She'd think of something, say one thing, do another - ensure he'd let her leave and then set some plan in motion that was meant to oust him.

It wouldn't work, probably; he couldn't very well allow her to start a war or something, but he was pretty sure it would be all kinds of fun to see her try, and that was the most important thing, wasn't it?

Finally, something interesting was going to happen.


End file.
